


all i ever wanted

by MissAtomicBomb (mrs_nerimon)



Category: The Handmaid's Tale (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Gen, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 15:52:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15222557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_nerimon/pseuds/MissAtomicBomb
Summary: She wants that. More than anything. More than she wants to be a good, faithful wife, even. She wants a baby and a family. And love.That’s it. That’s all.Spoilers for S2E12- "Postpartum"





	all i ever wanted

**Author's Note:**

> i felt so bad for eden from the moment she was introduced; she was just a teenage girl who believed in all the things she’d been taught to believe in probably since she was very little. she was so attention starved she ran away with the first person to give her the time of day, and she ended up losing her life for a teenage puppy love. damn, girl. at least she went out a baller (corinthians? as they try to drown you? stay hard, eden.)
> 
> title from fleetwood mac’s ‘sara’, which has a great line about ‘drowning in the sea of love’ (too soon?)

God has truly blessed her.

She’s someone’s _wife_. She’s going to have his babies. They’re going to raise a family together and honor God and Gilead. How lucky she is to be here with Commander and Mrs. Waterford and her _husband_ , drinking champagne and making small talk.

When she was younger she used to pray for this. For a wedding with a handsome husband. For a house full of children running about, a man coming home to a meal she cooked with a smile on his face. A man who loved her, who loved their children.

Nick. Nick Blaine. That’s a lovely name, she thinks. It’s her name now, too. Eden Spencer is gone; she’s Mrs. Nick Blaine now, and she belongs to somebody. To him. Forever, for the rest of her life, now and always.

Blessed.

 

  
Nick doesn’t like her.

It only takes a few days for this realization to set in. The way he brushes her off, ignores her. He wakes up early and comes home late, if he comes home at all. She tries, tries so hard to engage. She asks what food he likes and if he wants her to decorate the house and how does he want his shirts pressed? What’s his favorite color? Does he like cakes or pies? Should she knit him a scarf for the winter? A hat? What does he _want_ from her?

He refuses to budge. His answers are one word, short and succinct. He sleeps in bed rigid beside her, pressed as far to his side as he can manage. He won’t touch her, won’t kiss her. It doesn’t make sense. He’s her husband, he has to understand; if they wait any longer, they won’t be doing their duty. They owe it to Gilead to have children, to pass on His word. To raise a family of true believers.

She feels so stupid for confiding her fears in Offred, but she’s bursting to tell someone, anyone at all. _He won’t touch me, he hates me, I’m ugly, I’m terrible, I’m not what he wants._

Offred must think her nothing more than a silly little girl. Maybe that’s all she is.

The handmaid is right, after all; of course Nick isn’t a gender traitor. It’s not him, it’s _her_. Her fault. She must be doing something wrong, something’s driving him away.

She can fix it. Whatever it is, she can change. She can do anything he wants her to. Anything.

 

  
For a time, she thinks it’s worked. God heard her prayers, her desire to be a good wife. He’s made Nick finally respond to her. Finally want to start their family.

They pray together and she can feel her heart speed up, excitement and nerves and the knowledge that she’s doing as she’s supposed to. She’s being good, to Nick, and to God, and to Gilead.

It’s quick. She thought she knew what to expect, but it’s not quite the same as when her mother drew her aside the night before the prayvaganza. It just happens and then Nick gets up and leaves like he always does. The door swings shut and she’s alone in a big bed in an apartment that still feels so cold, naked under a sheet and trying to keep herself from crying.

Eden lays on her back like her mother told her to do, folds her hands over her chest and prays, prays that it worked. Prays that once was enough.

Something in her gut says she doesn’t want to do that again.

 

  
“How was dinner?”

She doesn’t miss the way Nick clenches his fork a little tighter, hunches his shoulders up to his ears.

“Fine.”

It’s always fine. Her cooking is fine, her housemaking is fine. He just thinks she’s fine, if annoying.

She _is_ annoying. She annoys him, and Rita, and Offred, and Mrs. Waterford sometimes, too. She doesn’t want to, but she can tell they find her a nuisance, a little buzzing fly trying to make herself helpful.

“Do you like the cookies?” She tries instead.

Nick picks one up and bites it in half, giving her a sad little smile.

“Of course.”

She can’t tell if he’s just humoring her or not. He’s unreadable most of the time, masking any emotion he might have with a hard mouth and a blank stare.

She’s trying to decide what to ask about next, maybe rearranging the room, or his upcoming trip, but Nick stands up quickly.

“I’m gonna go smoke.” He mumbles, more to himself than to her, and then he’s gone yet again.

Eden helps herself to another cookie.

 

  
He stops being unreadable when he gets angry, pushing in her face, _did you read these? Did you read these?_

He thinks she's a sinner. He thinks she'd look through his things, read his notes. She wouldn't, not ever, that's a crime against him and God.

She tries not to flinch when he leans in close like that. She didn't mean to make him angry, she only wanted to help. Maybe if she showed him how useful she could be, then he'd like her more.

But now she's ruined that too. Nick slinks away to sit on the bed and she draws her arms around her middle, leaning against the dining room table and trying not to cry.

"I'm sorry." She mumbles again, but he shakes his head.

"It's not-" He rubs a hand over his face. He looks so frustrated; there's guilt building in her stomach knowing she's the one who caused this. She wishes she knew a way to make it better, but he's never gotten upset like this before. Is this her punishment for demanding his attention?

"You're fine." He finally says, and he looks up at her with a blank gaze again, any hint of anger vanished from his face. "Just don't- Just listen to me, okay?"

"Yes, sir." It slips out smoothly, practiced. Nick shakes his head again.

"You don't have to call me that."

Eden chews on the inside of her bottom lip.

"I'm gonna- I'll be back later." The bed squeaks as he stands, and she watches, immobile, as he heads for the door like always.

 

   
Isaac is handsome. He reminds her of the boys in the magazines she used to see waiting in line at the grocery checkout. Round face, curly hair. He looks strong and brave in his uniform, too. A good soldier. A good man of God.

A man who _talks_ to her, at least.

It’s small, at first. It would be nice to have a friend, wouldn’t it? They’re close in age, and while he’s rude to Offred and Rita, he compliments her cooking and he listens to her talk about how she wants to decorate the house, how she’s knitting a new blanket for the bed.

Then suddenly it’s nighttime and he’s just _there_. And they’re all alone, and she so desperately wants to listen to the treacherous voice in her head asking what it would be like to truly be wanted by someone.

She knows it’s wrong to kiss him, wrong to hold his hands, but he’s the only person in here who’s said anything kind to her.

She regrets the kiss until Nick gives her nothing for it. No emotion, no anger. He doesn’t care; he’s never cared.

The tears can’t stop coming, and for the first time since she got here, Eden finds _she_ doesn’t care either. She doesn’t care if Nick sees her like this, blubbering like some little kid.

She’s tried so hard to be good and here she is, crying in front of her husband who just sits there like she’s disappointed him. Like she’s an unsightly piece of furniture, something he wants to get rid of but can’t.

“Please stop crying.”

He’s worse than her father. _Please stop_. Even if she could, she wouldn’t now, just to spite him.

“Eden, I-“ He’s hovering over her now, one hand coming to rest awkwardly on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, okay?”

She can’t tell what he’s apologizing for. Maybe for not loving her, or not caring. Or all of this, a whole mess.

Her face feels red and her skin is all wet, her hair falling out of the bun she tried to fashion like Mrs. Waterford’s. The tears keep slipping down her chin, staining the front of her dress and smearing on her sleeves, and Nick just keeps patting her shoulder, over and over and over.

 

  
They don’t talk bout it. Nick disappears and returns all at once and the Waterford’s don’t tell her anything at all.

Rita spares a few details as they chop vegetables for dinner, that Nick had an “incident” with some guardians, but he was only protecting the handmaid.

He always does. Nick is a good man, she thinks. He may not always be a good husband, but he tries to be a good man.

He’s at home even less, and she spends her time flitting between the kitchen and Mrs. Waterford’s room. Baby Nicole is beautiful, breath-taking. Her little hands reach up towards her mother, and Eden feels a hurting deep, deep down inside of her.

She wants that. More than anything. More than she wants to be a good, faithful wife, even. She wants a baby and a family. And love.

That’s it. That’s all.

 

  
Nick’s Bible is buried deep in the back of the cabinet. She lets her hands run over the faded leather cover, the pages that haven’t been opened in some time.

It’s a sin for her to read. But it’s God’s word she’d be reading, so why would that be so wrong? That’s one of those rules she’s beginning to think almost doesn’t make sense. Just like making her marry a man who wants nothing to do with her. Just like keeping her from making a true family, a happy family.

The book opens somehow. She opens it, probably, but she’s not totally sure she told her hands to do that.

She used to read a lot in school. _Charlotte’s Web. Anne of Green Gables. Babysitter’s Club_. Father took her out of school in fourth grade, but you don’t really forget, not totally.

It takes a moment for her eyes to take in the small print, to adjust to making sense of the words on the page. The passages she’s heard for years, but never seen like this. She flips through at random. Some sections she doesn’t think she’s ever heard before, others are repeated every week. Time slips by as she finds herself devouring every word on every page, her mouth whispering the lines she likes best.

 _God is love_.

If she feels love in her heart, she can’t be sinning against God. Not truly, right?

 

  
Offred says you have to grab love so she does, shoves it into a tiny little suitcase and stuffs it in the trunk of a big black SUV.

“Are you sure?” Isaac asks, and she can see his breath in the air, the short distance between them.

“Yes.” She whispers, soft enough for just him and God to hear. _Yes, I’m sure. Let’s go, let’s leave, let’s be a real family._

God loves her, and He loves Isaac, and He’ll love their baby too. It’s not a sin, it can’t be because she feels it in her heart, wants to give a child the best life possible. One with two parents who love each other, not two parents who briefly acknowledge one another over breakfast.

Her knees knock together in the cold of the car, the pitch dark of the night. But she holds his hand and feels a little stronger, a little warmer.

 

  
She’s not scared.

Maybe she should be. They put her in chains the second they pull up to the house, shove her in the back of a car and speed down back the road she’d travelled just hours earlier.

The sun’s peeking up over the trees as they whiz by. It’s so early. She should be tired too, she thinks. But her body feels awake, and her mind feels quiet. She thinks of all the nerves she had before the wedding ceremony, all the frantic energy that buzzed through her as her mother helped her into that white dress.

There’s none of that now. Not in front of the guardians, not in front of Nick.

He tries. He tries his hardest, and she knows that. Nick’s the one who doesn’t understand now, but she can’t blame him. God knows, and that’s what matters. He sees inside of her heart and He knows why she has to do this.

There’s no other choice to make. 

If they were true believers they’d see it too, she thinks. All the people in the stands, her mother and father and Commander and Mrs. Waterford. Offred and Nick.

Her hands catch on the metal rungs, but she listens to the echo in the room, the sureness of the platform beneath her feet.

 _Renounce_. Renounce what? Trying to make a good family? Trying to honor God? Being capable of love?

_Love is patient. Love is kind._

God is love. And love is Godly.


End file.
